


Dirge and March

by lokiloo



Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse)
Genre: Angst, Canonical Character Death, Character Death, F/F, Gen, M/M, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-19
Updated: 2012-12-19
Packaged: 2017-11-21 13:03:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/598076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lokiloo/pseuds/lokiloo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is not the first time. This is not the last.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dirge and March

**Author's Note:**

> Written for my beautiful cousin, I am sorry this as taken so long.

It’s funny, Chris thinks, flying away from the wreckage of an underwater hell.

It’s funny- watching the lightning strike, watching everything come crumbling down into the abyss. 

It’s funny, he whispers, feeling wet heat in his eyes and tightness in his chest he hadn’t felt in what felt like a lifetime.

 

It’s funny, because he’d just realized something- You really never know what you have till it’s gone.

 

He sees Leon first- he’s the first one to greet him at the airport. The air is dry and choking in the hot sun, and Chris steps off the plane and feels the heat scorch through to his bones.

“You ok?” 

It’s the first thing out of Leon's mouth. His hands shielded his face, eyes squinting in both the weather and concern.

Chris doesn't even register the words coming out of his mouth, but whatever He'd said had stopped Leon short.

In one blissful moment, a cloud blocks the suns rays; the world moves on, keeps spinning.

 

Sherry comes to him within the day. She’s happy and punch-drunk from lingering adrenalin, all but bouncing on her feet. She flies into his room with Jake at her heels, and Chris barely has time to stand before she's upon him.

“We did it!” She cries, running to his arms and hugging him with a strength He shouldn’t still be surprised at. “We did it, we made it-“

He’s not completely sure what happened next- what he sees when the white edges peel back is Sherry a good ten feet away, Jake holding her behind him, watching him with eyes like a falcon.

Sherry's eyes, though, are wide and fearful.

It's a sudden start, then, and he realizes that every muscle in his body is set to strike.

“I’m sorry-“ he’s able to choke out. He turns to nearest door, blindly reaching for the handle as guilt and pain turn to heavy ice in his stomach. ”I’m sorry, I'm so sorry-“

-And he doesn’t know if Sherry knocks on the door, doesn’t know if Jake even lets her near. He doesn’t know, doesn’t even think about it. He just sits in the dark bathroom, head pressed against the bleached white tiles, and tries his hardest to just breath.

 

"I didn’t expect a happy ending,” He says softly one night, eyes trained on the white holes of the ceiling. “I didn’t expect it-“

“But you wanted it.” Jill replies softy, voice only slightly tinny from the computer’s speakers.

Chris rolls over, staring into the open laptop and Jill’s soft, sad face. “I did.”

“I’m so sorry, Chris.” Jill’s smile is watery, and Chris feel the urge to wipe her face even as miles separate them.

Instead, he grips the comforter tight in hands, and fights to keep is voice from quivering. “It’s not your fault.”

“-And it wasn’t yours,” She whispers, and Jake pretends for her sake to believe it, spending the night with a heavy, heaving chest.

 

“How have you been?” Sherry asks while she sips her coffee. This morning is tentative between them- it’s the first day of her visit and neither wished to push if they didn't have to.

“Good,” He answers, and she’s kind enough to not call him on the lie.

The cold Seattle air feels nice, as long as their hands are cupped around their drinks- Sherry smiles over her cup, leaning against the rail. “I’m glad. I'm really glad to see you too.”

It’s quiet, for a long time. The balcony of the apartment gives them a view of the streets around- street traffic coming and going, simple people living simple lives.

"I'm dating Jake," She says point blank, and Chris nearly burns is mouth in surprise. "I'm not trying to freak you out-!", come a hastily backtrack from a red Sherry, but Chris is too gob smacked to do anything but stare. She finishes in a near mumble. "I just wanted you to know."

He says the first thing that comes into his head. "I'm surprised he let you come here."

Sherry grins in surprise and relief. "It was difficult, yeah, He's pretty stubborn." Her smiles wanes slightly, though, and she's apologetic in her eyes. "It wasn't because you're a- a um, guy."

The last time they'd seen each other weighs heavy in the air, and Chris feels shame creep up his neck. "I'm-"

"-Don't apologize," She scolds, and Chris snaps his mouth shut. "You don't have to apologize for a single thing, ok?" Sherry bites her lip. "I uh- I know. -About it. -And I would've done the same."

She doesn't ask him about it, and she doesn't push. For that, he's grateful.

 

Pierce had left behind a mother, a brother, and three nieces. They lived in Arizona, thirty miles from Phoenix, in a quiet neighborhood. Their yard was big, and the shutters and door where a bright yellow. A planter was filled with wilted, dying stalks.

Chris knows this, because he'd been there. He'd driven in his rented Honda right up to the house; he'd even parked across the street.

He doesn’t go in.

Instead, he ends up a cemetery. It's newer, and nice, but there are still too many graves.

Finding the headstone is pretty anticlimactic- there's not heart stopping moment, no beating of fists or crying. It's a simple slab of granite, carved with a name, and a date. Sitting to the right is another; his father's grave, he'd hazard by the look of it.

Maybe it's the bright sun above, or the stiflingly dry heat. Maybe it's the fact that the grave is, of course, empty. -But no matter the reason, He can't seem to catch his breath.

"Gave his life for his country," it reads, and he has never felt so worthless in his life.

On an Arizona summer day, Chris salutes an empty grave.

 

“This is what you want?" He asks for the 70th time, and Sherry slaps him on the shoulder.

"Yes, yes, yes, I am positive, wouldn't be here if I wasn't!" She smiles, though, and pushes her hair behind her ear.

Chris grins. "You look beautiful," he whispers, and she does- her white sundress is offset by the bright pink bouquet of spray-roses in her hands, hair pushed back with a sparkling band and her smile so wide it looked ready to break her face. She hugs him again, and Chris sighs as he hold her close. "Are you ready?"

"Yes," is the answer into his shirt, so he lets her go and straightens his tie.

They push the door of the courthouse room open, and Sherry steps to the strain of an aria playing from a PA system. The official is off to the side, ready for the ceremony, and Jake - in a honest to god suit- smiles like it's the first time he's ever been allowed to.

Chris goes to stand by where Leon and Jill are waiting, and he doesn't cry, not once.

 

(He doesn’t know what day it is- doesn’t know the month if he’s completely honest with himself. They've been on this hell for what feels like years; fight, move, fight, move, no time to rest no time to sit back and realize how much they've done, or how much still needs to be.

They're on a plane- the first of three. Where they were, exactly, he couldn't tell you- the cabin is dark, and warm, and that was they needed to pass out. 

So he's woken from a dead-sleep by a jarring turbulence, snapping awake in the span o a second. He's on edge, suddenly, and is heart won't calm down, until he feels a heavy weight on his shoulder- Peirce's hand, reaching from across the seat.

"Are you ok, Captain?" He asks, voice still rough from sleep, and Chris has to swallow.

"Ah, yes. I'm good." He manages. "Just- startled."

Pierce nods, sleepiness still clouding his face. It's obvious he's exhausted, by the dark circles and deep lines in his face, and Chris feel a burning need to just- just hold him, tightly, until this hell is done and over with, until they can just finally breathe again.

-And maybe it's the realization, or maybe the way Peirce's face is become more and more aware. Maybe it's the exhaustion, or the warmness of their cabin. Maybe the timing, or the food they ate seven hours ago, or the fact that Peirce's hand hasn't moved from his shoulder this entire time.

Maybe it's culmination of all of it- of none.

They kiss.)


End file.
